The Otter
NoriWasHere
Yankee
Andre Valias
Evil Ghost Note
IAmTheIsland
Atrophy
LanaStorm
Memoria
flux
Ciara Ventura
Acendia, Room 103 Fountain
@Nanaya
“Fear us or falter, Umbralist.”
Ciara's blood ran cold.
Umbralist.
“How dare you…”
The Voices stirred in her. “These monsters deserve our wrath. Eroding the darkness, casting down our brothers and sisters. Strike them through.”
Ciara felt her temper flare, wholly agreeing with the Voices, before her eyes widened.
“Wait. Brothers…? But you said…” She thought.
Flashes came into mind. The angry mobs in front of the orphanage. Being dragged from her home, chased out and scorned against the winter snow. The humiliation of being unable to show her face where she grew up.
“But you said… I wasn't an Umbralist.”
“Your nature is tied in darkness. These people do not see the difference.”
Ciara stiffened. The Voices were holding something back. “You're being dishonest with me-”
A flashing strike aimed for her head. Ciara twisted on her heel, blocking the attack with her daggers. Dark sparks flew off the steel as the mannekin wailed on her, trying to find a weakness.
“Are they right, then? Is my whole life an utter lie? Something to be wiped away, like a smudge of soot?”
From the corner of her eye, she saw the wave of air pressure wheeling towards her. Ciara grit her teeth, yanking the sword down with her shadows to break apart the wind. The collision sent out shockwaves, stirring the collar of her shirt before it broke past the sword, knocking Ciara back.
She fell to one knee, knocked back into the underbrush of the forest. A hiss of annoyance escaped her lips as she stared out at the duo of Kiimos Trelle.
“Is it my fate to suffer like this?”
There was a pause, before a deeper Voice spoke, withered with time.
“Light cannot exist without darkness. Like water and oil, they cannot tolerate one another.”
Another pause.
“Your peace will be found in overpowering the light. Remind them which of the two is superior.”
Ciara let the words sink, staring hard for a moment, before slinking further into the dark underbrush.
Shadows.
She could feel them.
This was how she'd gain the upper hand.
Front the underbrush, shadowy tendrils shot out. They snaked around the ankles and legs of the duo mannekins, worming their way up. If Ciara was successful, she would encase their limbs and torsos entirely in writhing shadows, squeezing hard against the barriers. More tendrils shot out, clasping hard on the sword and axe handle, crushing hard enough to create splinters down the shafts.
Ciara emerged from the underbrush, eyes alight with grim arrogance. She squeezed a little harder, placing enough pressure that she was certain would create cracks and tears in the barriers of the mannekins.
But she didn't outright destroy them. Not yet.
“Beg for mercy, and I might spare you.”
